Title: The Most Dangerous Game

Summary: Daken tries to get to Logan through one of his girls.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respective owners .This story is produced without profit.

Characters: Daken/Other

Genre: General

Rating: M

Warnings: Mind games/Drug usage/Under-age drinking/Non-explicit sex

Status: Completed

Archiving: Please PM me

Inspirations/Dedications: If only I knew.

Author's Notes: #1: This bears very little resemblance to the original story though the basic plot is the same.

#2.There is probably some British/European phrasing in here but I'm leaving it in since Daken is often regarded as being internationally raised.

The Most Dangerous Game

Chapter One: The Set-Up

Daken isn't one for bars. Every now and then, he'll go out and get his freak on, as the young ones like to say, but generally, there isn't much benefit to drinking and boozing when you can't get drunk or high.

This bar isn't particularly trendy either. No wonder they've buried it in some piss smelling corner of Manhattan and the women...well, let's just say the strays aren't the only dogs on the street tonight.

There's a half torn sign on the wall; angels and demons party. Optional fancy dress.

Sounds like his kind of fun.

He inhales deeply as follows the mind-fucked patrons into sleaze city. Car oil and cigar smoke. A weak scent and missing most it's surface tones but the base...well, that is one he knows. There's enough vanilla and orchids mingled in that he knows he isn't going to find his father bopping away in there. It's not his scent but it is the scent of someone he knows, someone that he's spent time with in the last few hours.

He gives the doorman a nudge, just in case. Repressed homosexuals don't often react well to someone as effortlessly buff as Daken is. His perfect skin alone has the men bristling with jealousy...

"Hey, baby. You wanna dance with me?"

...and the women dropping their panties as soon as he walks through the door.

He winces as a particularly forceful bass assaults his sensitive hearing and adjusts his abilities to suit. The woman takes his reaction as an insult and stalks of which saves Daken the job of getting rid of her in the long run.

It takes at least half an hour before he finally sorts through all of the smoke and coke and cum and manages to get a bead on the general location of his target. There is two of them, a little off centre on the dance floor. He notices the red head immediately and thinks all his birthdays might have come at once. The naughty girl is wearing devil horns and a dress that looks spray painted on. She might as well lay down and open her legs for the world to see but if Daken has to get messy, there are worse he could have ended up with.

His father is going to feel this one. Everybody knows how he loves his red heads.

There's an angel on her shoulder, or there might as well be considering how closely they are dancing together. A little curly haired girl who looks far too young to be drinking in the first place but that is all the attention Daken pays to her. Next to the bombshell, she is positively a non-entity and so he waits and watches and sees how and why the rest of the men fail.

He is just about to move in for the kill when Curls looks down at her cellphone and leans in towards her friend.

"That was Logan. I'm gonna go call him back."

It stops Daken in his tracks before he shakes off his confusion and wonders why he should be so surprised that his Daddy likes them young. The man is a fucking creep, after all.

He lifts a packet of cigarettes on his way out and follows her into the back alley. She's already talking and he raises his cigarette and leans against the wall.

She moves out of range, or at least she thinks she does. "You know you don't have to keep checking up on me?"

"I know, pun'kin," his father answers. "...but you know it makes me nervous being so far away from you girls. Just trust me on this one. Keep your eyes open and your back to the wall. Call Gumbo when you're ready to come home."

They say their goodbyes and hang up. The first thing Daken does is compare her features to his own, to his father's, to that test tube brat-he comes up short. He does the math. How old was that Japanese kid when his father adopted her?

He gives the girl a once over. She looks a little exotic around the eyes and has the same doll like features as most of the Asian women he has known but apart from that he wouldn't even peg her as a half breed.

He finishes his cigarette before he follows her back in.

He would rather have the red head. Granted, she's not the most attractive woman Daken has ever seen but he can tell that she's raring and ready to go. Hell, he could probably have her right there on the dance floor. She's just aching for dick and he can tell she knows what to do with it.

"What's your name?" Daken asks.

She grins and rolls her eyes in anticipation of the same old routine. "Rachel."

"Rachel," he curls his tongue around the same. "Does your friend have a partner?"

Doll-face is there but Daken has a feeling that the standard lines aren't going to work with her. He knows he has to tread softly with this one. Knowing his father, she will already be a borderline paranoid basket case.

She looks between them confused as Rachel asks, "You mean a dance partner?"

Daken locks his gaze with Doll-face. "No, I mean a boyfriend."

Her expression is a clear clue that she isn't used to getting the attention in this little friendship. "Uh, no," she says cautiously, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Daken keeps his eyes on hers as he takes a sip of his drink. "Good."

It's not that easy. His hunch was right. That old faggot has got her clocking everyone that comes in and marking the exits. She's not as chatty as her friend so it's hard to have a conversation with her.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asks, using the loud music as an excuse to lean in closer. She pulls back and he can't help but be offended at that.

"Uh, no. I guess not."

"You have to guess?"

She stares at him for a long moment and he realises how dark her eyes are. The pupil almost disappears into the iris and when the strobe lights hit her at a certain angle they look like pools of black water.

He begins to feel analysed and he doesn't like it. Suddenly he's really looking forward to doing away with her.

"Are you a virgin?" He asks, not entirely without malice.

She chokes on her drink a little and blushes. "That's none of your business."

She is, he's sure of it. Not that he isn't pleased. He might even tape her first time and send daddy a copy. That would be really funny. Then he could chop her up and send the old man the pieces. It would be worth it to see the look on his face but it just doesn't seem enough. She's made it too much of a game now.

Anybody with a stick and a bit of gumption can kill. It takes a real artist to work outside the boundaries. He wants her on her back for sure. There's nothing like fucking his little girl to make a daddy go wild but even worse would be knowing that she wants him back. That he's raised a dirty little slut who'll do anything for Daken's dick.

"I'm sorry. You're right, that's none of my business." He holds his palms up in mock surrender as he leans in again. "I just think you're really beautiful. I want to get to know you better but you're just not responding to me at all."

Her expression softens. "Look, I'm not trying to be a bitch to you. I just got out of a relationship and I don't really do the no strings thing. I'm flattered, I am really. I mean, nobody ever approaches me. Especially not when Ray is around," she mumbles.

"Then they're idiots," he says with a shrug and she finds his words pleasing because she takes up his offer of a drink and when the night is over, she lets him take her number.


It takes a few weeks of meeting up before he manages a breakthrough. Kitty is particularly moody tonight and announces her intentions to, "Get so drunk I can't walk," before they've even started.

Daken likes the sound of that but he won't let it get that far. He wants her mostly conscious and somewhat coherent. He does let her get tipsy enough that when he takes her hand and leads her into the alley, she doesn't protest.

She staggers a little and he uses her imbalance as an excuse to grab her hips and move her back against the wall.

"Are you going to let me kiss you now?" He asks with a naughty grin. He has found that she responds best to a little bit of wickedness and mischief.

She tips her head a little and stares through heavy, unfocused eyes but doesn't speak and he can't figure out her answer either way.

He slowly moves his head towards her in order not to spook her. It's almost a surprise when she doesn't push him off and even more so when after a moment, she responds. What he notices first is that her lips are warm and her hands claw at his shirt as he settles himself between her legs. As he reaches for his belt buckle, she pushes him away.

"Not here," she says by way of an explanation.

"Come home with me then."

She blinks slowly and inhales a sobering blast of air. "No, I don't do that."

It takes every ounce of composure Daken has to stop himself from reaching out and repeatedly bouncing her head off the wall.

The next time they meet her attitude is a little more playful and warmer. She talks more, she asks him questions-so many questions that he begins to wonder if she's gotten wise to him and is playing games. One thing he notices is that after a Steamboat and a shot, she switches to juice and soda and refuses any and all attempt to buy her anything else.

"You already asked me that," he says good naturedly.

"You don't like to talk about yourself, do you?" She smiles up at him and it makes her look like a child trying to sweet talk her way out of a scolding.

Daken feels a prickle of caution at her approach."What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "Just something I've noticed about you. You always turn the conversation around to me, and you flatter and deflect whenever you don't want to answer something."

Daken raises his eyebrows and sips at his drink. He is unnerved. She hasn't given him any cues or reason to suspect that she's watching him so closely.

"It makes me nervous," she admits after a moment. "It usually means you've got something to hide."

He tries to cover with a laugh. "I've tried showing you everything I've got, you just don't want to see it."

She rolls her eyes and mutters, "Men, always thinking about one thing."

A few hours later, Daken grabs her around the waist as she leaves the bathroom. Her lips are freshly glossed and her curls aren't the tumbling mess that they usually are after a few hours of dancing.

"Delicious," he murmurs, the taste of chemical cherry on his tongue. She opens her mouth and pushes up into him. Her forwardness surprises him almost as much as the anticipation worming its way through his gut. He might just kill her right there if she cock-blocks him again.

He pulls away from her lips and trails sticky kisses down her neck, tilting her head back so he can get at her collarbone. It always works on the women and Kitty is no different. He can smell her arousal, meeting his in the air and mingling together, and he knows they are both past the point of no return. He isn't going home alone tonight, whether she likes it or not.